Her father and Donald had known each other all her life, they’d virtually grown up together. One thing she’d learned over time was that this was a life that one could never escape. You either survived or you became a victim, and she wasn’t willing to give in. When the time came, it was her choice to supply girls to replenish the reservoir of children who no one cared about or missed. Her role as head of the English department gave her a unique insight into which children were the most vulnerable, and therefore most likely to succumb to her offer of quick rewards, and they were plentiful. But most importantly, when she fulfilled the need for a steady cache of ideal candidates – in other words, ones who wouldn’t talk or brag; the children who were already written off in life and had no desire to draw even more attention to themselves – her father had stopped using her.

She wrapped her coat around her thin, tired body and stared up at the dark sky. She’d spent around eight hours in the police station, freezing and humiliated, and her bones ached. Snowflakes, fat with perfection, floated down from the blackness and were illuminated by street lights. The vision mesmerised her. As the tiny crystals settled on her face and melted, they mingled with her tears and she felt a strange sensation as warm mixed with cold and had the effect of cleansing her mind somewhat.

She walked to the taxi rank near the station and jumped into the back of a car.

‘Laurie Fell estate, please,’ she said.

‘Why’re you going there at this time of night? Are you working for the BBC or something?’ the cabbie asked, laughing at his clever joke.

‘No, I live there,’ she said.

That shut him up. No doubt he’d call all of his friends after he’d dropped her off. And soon he’d know the extent of the monster he’d had in his back seat. She didn’t say another word. The man drove in silence and Nellie knew that she’d shocked him into quiet, which was just how she wanted it. He couldn’t know the truth of course, but she imagined he did, and it crushed her chest.

As they drove along the north shore of Ullswater, she had to tell him exactly where the entrance was. People always got it muddled up, and that was one of the reasons that her father had liked it so much. It was about as isolated as you could hope for. There was no viability in this sort of thing in the cities any more. Tip-offs, nosy neighbours, confident delivery people and everybody thinking they were the new Inspector Morse, all contrived to make it hell for the private investor looking for seclusion. The Lake District was perfect.